


How Not To Disappear

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Brimstone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-19
Updated: 2006-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 08:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1640684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes he wondered if he really felt anything, any longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Not To Disappear

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Carmilla for the beta!
> 
> Written for deannie

 

 

Snow.

Ezekiel lifted his face, closed his eyes, and let the heavy, wet flakes coat his skin. The sensation was...strange, disorienting. In a detached way, he could perceive the coldness of the snow, the ice crystals melting and sliding down his neck, but he did not shiver, nor feel any true chill. The elements did not affect his false-human form; be it extremely hot or incredibly cold, to him it always simply _was_.

He remembered many New York nights when he had cursed the harsh, snowy winters, but now he could barely recall what it felt like to be chilled to the bone. He wished he could feel it. Sometimes he wondered if he really felt anything, any longer.

His shoes were not meant for walking through nearly a foot of snow, over these uneven fields and woodlands, but he moved onwards nevertheless. By this point even his socks were soaked through, the moisture wet and squishy between his toes, but it didn't particularly bother him beyond feeling vaguely unpleasant. Even if he ruined these shoes tonight from all the ice and the moisture, come tomorrow they would be good as new. Come tomorrow, he'd still have a mission to complete, if he didn't do so tonight. The elements presented the least of his concerns.

Somewhere out in this quiet New York countryside, he had a damned soul to find. Less than half of them remained on his list, tattooed on his skin, but the ones who were there grew only more difficult to find as time passed--and even harder to send back to where they belonged. This one had been a challenge to locate for he had not been out in the cities causing mayhem and murder, drawing attention to his exploits like so many of the others Ezekiel had sent back to Hell already. This escaped soul, a man named Joseph Brackett, had retreated to the solitude of these woods, to the places he had known during his youth before his days as a Civil War soldier who had enjoyed killing the enemy just a little too much. Returned to Earth, it seemed he only wanted peace and quiet, here in this isolated place where only the occasional farm house interrupted the desolate landscape.

But Ezekiel could not let him have that. So he had walked through these woods for days, searching, finding hints and traces of demonic "life" but not directly encountering his target just yet. The snow had started in the morning, making the hunt more difficult by covering any tracks and limiting his vision. Evening had begun to close in, now, the sun was going down, and Zeke could not tell if he were any closer to his quarry than he had been in the morning, or if he had instead gone completely off track. Best then to simply find a place to rest for the night, he thought, and hope that the snow would end and that he could return to the hunt in the morning.

He chose a spot on the edge of a clearing in the woods, a large field laying dormant through the winter that might be filled with hay or corn during the warmer months. A large rock provided a sturdy backrest for Zeke as he sat down, his body sinking into the soft snow that was now nearly a foot deep in places. Again he was aware, abstractly, of the cold, of the dampness quickly seeping through the seat of his pants, but it did not affect him. A mortal man would be in agony, limbs numb and toes frostbitten after being out all day in this weather with so little protection, no gloves for his hands, only his old jacket and pullover. Instead, he felt no pain--only another damned soul could make him feel that, as the devil had explained when Zeke had first found himself back in New York, a golem dispatched to the world of the living for a last chance at redemption.

What the devil hadn't mentioned, but which made a similar if twisted kind of sense, was that it seemed as though only another damned soul could make him feel anything at all. They all shared this shadow existence--not really on Earth, not really in Hell, though certainly not fully free from it, either, never free of its torments nor its head tormentor. Not really anywhere, nor part of anything. Not feeling anything physically except when causing each other pain. There were times when Zeke found himself welcoming a blow from one of his quarry, or a knife blade jammed in his shoulder, a bullet piercing his thigh. The pain was agony but it was at least _something_ , even if just a momentary illusion of life, of feeling. Of _being._

For now, here, at this moment, he felt nothing at all. He sat and watched the falling snow, trying to remember what it felt like to be alive.

After a time--minutes, hours perhaps, he wasn't certain--he realized he had company. Lucifer was near. Zeke couldn't see him, but he could sense his presence in the wind--charged, dangerous, like the air right before a lightning strike. But the devil didn't appear in physical form. He simply lurked in the shadows, a storm that threatened but never thundered into life.

Zeke knew in a few minutes the sensation would pass. He would be alone again, left to wonder what the devil had come to observe, what he hoped to accomplish except to remind his servant that he was always there, keeping his eye on Zeke's progress and ready to berate him should his attention ever waver for very long from the hunt.

It seemed to happen more and more frequently these days, the devil watching him, like this, sometimes the feeling becoming so strong that Zeke knew the devil had to be right behind him, the air so electric it was like a fire burning on the back of his neck, but then the sensation would disappear in the blink of an eye, so quickly Zeke would wonder if he hadn't imagined it all. Other times Lucifer would then appear as he normally did, chiding Zeke about the slow progress of his work, dropping mysterious clues as to where to find his next quarry or just generally being a pain in ass.

Zeke sighed. He'd had enough of this invisible shadowing--and, truthfully, he could actually use the company. Even the devil's company, as disturbing as that was to admit. "I know you're here, so you might as well show yourself and join me," he called out to the wind.

Laughter rippled out of the shadows in response, and the air before him shifted. The devil stepped out of the darkness of the woods, wearing heavy winter attire that he needed no more than Ezekiel might have. Nevertheless, he was always one to dress for the occasion, although Zeke thought the bright red mittens and extra-long striped scarf were a bit much. "You were having such a wonderfully depressing little mope, detective, pining over your lost mortal life, that I didn't want to disturb you."

"Sorry to cut short your fun."

The devil dusted snow off of his coat sleeves and sat down next to Zeke. The fur-lined hood of his coat obscured much of his weathered face, but not his smirking grin, nor his bright, icy eyes. He fixed Zeke in his sharp gaze and observed, "Not having much luck finding Brackett, are you? You've been trailing him through these parts for, what...ten days now?"

"I'll find him. Sooner or later." Zeke looked up at the night sky, eerily pink in color from the falling snow now that the sun had nearly set. "Sooner or later I'll find them all, you needn't worry."

"Oh, I'm not worried. After all, if you mess up, I've got thousands ready to finish the job. Ready, and very eager for the chance."

Zeke didn't respond except with a small shrug. The devil's threats of replacement had long ago lost any impact on him. His non-responsiveness elicited more laughter from the devil. "What's so funny now?" Zeke asked.

"What else? You, of course. You know, you remind me of one of my brothers. Nemamiah. You both share that oh-so-earnest, stubborn nature that's really quite endearing--in a nauseating way. And a quiet, brooding surface beneath which lies a fiery, _passionate_ heart." Lucifer stopped, turning his gaze away from Ezekiel then and falling silent for a long moment. "I miss him."

"Let me guess, he stayed with God during the war in Heaven?"

"No, Ezekiel. No, he followed me. He was one of the first who did--my loyal friend and brother until the end. _His_ end. He went insane, broken by the misery of Hell and the loss of God's light." He spoke matter-of-factly, even as Zeke sensed much more behind the devil's words, something truly dark and terrible that was best left to the imagination. "For five hundred years he suffered, slipping further and further into madness. I finally had to end it for him, and put him out of his misery."

"You killed him?"

" _Destroyed_ would more accurate. I ended his pain. I suppose it was the only act of true 'kindness' I have ever committed, such as it was."

"Almost sounds as though you loved him."

"Of course I did."

"You told me once that the only thing you ever loved was God."

Lucifer shrugged. "I lied. It suited the moment."

"Or you could be lying now."

"I could be. Choose what you want to believe, Ezekiel. You always do."

Zeke shook his head. The truth, or just another lie? Who could tell, and did it even matter? All Zeke knew was that he had to be careful of believing anything that came from the devil's mouth. Still, he sensed he could be catching Lucifer in a rare moment of openness. It happened, from time to time. "I didn't know an angel could be...destroyed."

"Anything that exists can cease to be. Nothing is truly immortal."

"Not even God?"

Lucifer laughed, softly this time. He removed his garish mittens and beat the snow off them against his pants. "A god is only as strong as the faith of the people who believe in him--or her, as the politically correct case may be. Destroy that faith, and you destroy the deity. Destroy the symbols of faith, people forget what they are supposed to believe. And then the door opens, and someone--some _thing_ new--may enter."

Zeke thought about his most dangerous quarry. "The way Ash has been targeting churches and other symbols of worship for destruction--that's her way of trying to diminish God, then. To destroy the faith that replaced hers, sentenced her to damnation."

"Clever boy! It seems you're starting to figure things out. Perhaps there's hope for you yet."

It made sense, Ezekiel realized, and certainly explained why his mission was of importance to God as well as the devil, as the angel from Heaven had told him once. Silence fell over them both as Ezekiel considered the possibilities, and as the devil seemed lost in his own thoughts. Nothing out in the empty fields or dark trees stirred with life; all was silent and unmoving except the snow that continued to fall. Zeke imagined himself buried beneath it all by morning, should he simply remain here and let it cover this body, wrapping it in a blanket of ice that he still couldn't feel.

Lucifer broke the stillness of the moment at last, reaching out to brush the snow out of Zeke's hair. A shiver passed through his body, not at the icy particles falling down into his collar but at the touch of that hand, so light against his hair and then so _warm_ , making him feel actual _heat_ , along his scalp and creeping down to the base of his neck. Lucifer's thumb moved in small, slow circles, massaging and spreading that warmth through Zeke's body with each caress.

The devil--one of the damned, like him, in a way. One who could actually make him feel these sensations he'd thought he might have forgotten. This body he possessed began to hum with energy at its master's touch, awakening and becoming hungry for more. "Stop," Zeke said automatically, his conscience warring against the need for this contact.

"No. Stand up and walk away if you don't want this. But I know that you do." Lucifer's fingers ran up Zeke's scalp, nails scraping against his flesh. Zeke flinched, even as he welcomed the pain. "I know you far too well, Ezekiel. You _need_ this. You're forgetting how to feel. Drifting, slipping away. Hate me all you want, but it is better than feeling nothing. _Becoming_ nothing."

Zeke knew he could shake off that hand touching him. He could stand up and leave. He knew that the devil wouldn't--couldn't--force him to do anything. Lucifer could only coax and show the way, point toward the path that led to further damnation...or salvation, perhaps, there was no way to be certain what lay ahead. Zeke had to make the choice himself, to be willing to bear the consequences either way. He'd faced that choice before and always walked away.

But this time...

He sighed and closed his eyes.

_Gods disappear without faith. Would I simply disappear without feeling? Is that what I really want?_

This time he would choose to stay.

Snow continued to fall on his cheeks, his nose, melting and trickling down over his lips, but he didn't feel it the way he sensed the heat of the devil's fingers on his skin. Lucifer moved his hand, sliding it down over Zeke's damp cheek, thumb slowly gliding over his wet lips. Zeke found himself turning to meet that touch, body called to it, knowing that--in some unsettling and terrible way--here, with the devil, was the one place in this world he could find safe haven. The only one whom he could trust to give him what he needed.

Lucifer's hand slipped around to the back of his neck, urging him even closer. Zeke, having chosen his fate, did not resist, instead moving toward and seeking the warmth of the devil's body, the energy that surrounded him, charging the air, making the marks on Zeke's skin burn and tingle anew. Lips touched, then, but what followed was much more than a kiss. One didn't kiss the devil; one fell into his presence, became consumed by it. It was obscene pleasure and unbearable agony, and every _feeling_ reawakened Ezekiel's numbed senses, violently brought them back to life. It felt like dying all over again--the world shattering around him to be reshaped into something new. To find _himself_ shaped into something new, and then--

 _Oh, God,_ escaped Zeke's thoughts before he could stop himself. His slip of the mind earned him a bite to the lip that shocked him back to this world, and a growled warning.

"God has nothing to do with this."

The devil told the truth; there was no place for God, not here. Not now.

Snow crunched beneath him as he fell back onto the ground, sinking into it under the weight of the other's body pressed down on top of him. The snow, his clothing, these woods...everything seemed to melt away, then, once again consumed by the devil's kiss and the fire that it ignited inside of him. Where he had almost lost himself in the numbness of the snow and ice, here he seemed to find himself once more in the flames of his need and desire.

When he became aware of the world around him again, night had long since fully descended. The snow had stopped at last, the sky clearing to reveal a shimmering blanket of stars. Had he ever seen them shine so bright before?

Lucifer remained beside him, sitting up and looking out across the snow-covered fields.

A question formed in Zeke's thoughts. "What happens to you, if God were to lose his power?"

"Some things are better not to contemplate, Ezekiel. Unless that successor to His power is _me_ , of course."

"Of course." Zeke noted that the ground beneath him was dry, now, as were his clothes, and an entire circle of earth around where they sat. Sleep beckoned, but for once not as a brief escape from his half-life existence. He waited for the devil to rebuke his drowsy state, but no harsh words came. Indeed, Lucifer said nothing, simply remaining there beside him in a silence that Zeke found... _comforting_...in a strange way. How any of this would play out in the future, he had no idea. And for now, he didn't care.

He was simply glad to remember what it felt like to be alive.


End file.
